


A Home Away From Stars

by Mavle_Jewel (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society (Homestuck), F/F, F/M, Grubs (Homestuck), Homestuck - Freeform, M/M, Pesterlog(s) (Homestuck), Troll Romance (Homestuck), Trolls (Homestuck)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22061542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Mavle_Jewel
Summary: As young, 12 year old Roxy Lolande flys through life on Earth, her dreams bare another life that grasps onto the supernatural and the unknown. From what once was a normal life, to days filled with halusinations, Roxy dives deeper into her subconscious, or what she thinks is her subconscious. From only fearing bad grades in class, to now fearing the drones in her dreams, she must save her mind from two conflicting sides of her home holding different stars.What will this young girl do?





	1. Chapter One

**Just a Warning, heads up. This universe will be completely different from the alternia,** **Beforus** **or Earth that we've ever seen. Of course it is an alternate universe meant to satisfy my needs for fantasy and wordplay. This, by no means, will follow the canonical Homestuck stor** y **rule. That is to say the term "you" as a constant point of view will not entirely be happening.**

_______________________________

A head had propped up on a small table, a hypnotizing smell forced its way through its nose. Their ears heard the hiss of the pan and the whistle of the teapot, but at the moment their thoughts could only think of the bittersweet taste of their daily coffee, to which they drank two times a day. The smell pleaded them to come closer, their thoughts continuing to cloud them with a storm of thrills and bliss until it twisted itself blank after the last sniff. Their legs began to move on their own, the heals of their feet planting themselves on the rugged floor of the living room all the way to the tiled floor of the kitchen where their father was, a spatula in one hand and a sleepy baby in the other. 

  
After taking sight of his sibling, the baby spat out a pink binky that hung in his mouth. He swatted his hands on his father's back and wriggled for freedom as his quiet babbles of unidentifiable words became louder, becoming obvious cries for attention. His sibling held out their hands and flexed their fingers, opening and closing them as they pleased, in an attempt to get the baby to mimic those exact movements, which he has done every morning before.

This was common and it held a familiar feeling of this person's everyday life. This GIRLS everyday life. A girl who blanks out during every easy ease that her teachers surprised the class with. A girl who fixated herself in semi-deep thoughts and a flurry of imaginative flow. A girl who did not enjoy drastic changes in her life or her family and friends.

This girl was named Roxane. Her little brother, David, was trying to obtain his father's attention as his mother, Rosetta, began to walk downstairs after hours of trying to perfect her newest passion project which consisted of wizards, witches, warlocks and other mythical creatures that probably have the letter W at the beginning of their names.

This was surely a normal life for Roxy and her family. Such a standard day. A mother, a father, a daughter, and a brother. What could possibly go wrong in a perfect world like Roxy's?

"What's up, Davey!?" She said, as she opened her hands and proceeded to lightly pinch her little brother's cheeks. A gesture far from opposed, yet it also wasn't particularly wanted, as Dave quickly became fussy. She dropped her hands to her sides and looked up and her father, Dirk. The most qualified cook in the house and the only one who could truly cook without lighting the kitchen on fire.

"Hey Rox! Did you sleep well?" Her father, Dirk, Asked while he flipped one of his most recent cooked eggs on a plate. He bent down to place a small kiss on his daughter's forehead, causing both Dave and Roxy to giggle with glee.

"Well, it was fine. Until I had another one of those weird dreams." She said, a frown forming on her face the moment she was reminded of another one of her dreams. It, as well as everything else in her house, was just another regular routine that happens in her daily life, or nightly in this case.

"What was it about this time sweetie?"

Roxy looked up from her father's embrace only to find that her mother Rosetta, or Rose for short, had been quietly listening from behind with a cup of tea in her two hands, cupped comfortably between her palms and slender fingers. Rose was a very intellectual person, with a unique way of speaking and writing as well as turning thought into words that make pictures of blur even clearer than the most detailed writers. Her methods are questionable to the simple-minded but to those who hold a more open mind, these 'Words of Blur' are clearer than a sunny day. Roxy quickly squinted her eyes and stared at her mother skeptically.

"Please don't tell me you're going to go all therapist mode on me?" Roxy said, a slight whine slipping through her lips and a groan afterward to emphasize her distraught for her mother's antics. Rose herself was a therapist who has dealt with the mind and dreams, more specifically, hallucinations as she has had many in the past as well as "a fondness for the bestially strange and fictitious, and sometimes dabbles in psychoanalysis". She also takes up a hobby of knitting in her free time and is a lover of all things purple and wizard related. She also holds a certain interest in anything related to Cthulhu. Not that she was a worshipper or anything, but she had always felt interested in dark mysterious powers. Although, she does lean more towards the light side.

"Roxane, I am your mother, not your therapist, but at the same time, I am also your therapist. You should have already known this." Rose said with a calm smile, softly sipping her tea. She can be confusing sometimes when explaining things, always including both sides to her argument, or when she needs to point out something like an opinion as a fact which is an impossible thing to do, yet she does it perfectly. As said before, she can be confusing sometimes.

"Now, please proceed to tell me what your dream was about." She said, seating herself down into her soft purple rocking chair that fit her figure. Her body was thin, though not too much where you'd mistaken her for not eating well. Her dark purple lipstick stained the black mug that she held onto her hand and her slender figure fit perfectly into the cushion of her chair.

The glass pane behind her was dyed Royal Fuchsia and the sun coming in created a warm glow around the room. Their surroundings were comfortable sure, but Roxy knew better than to trust her mother for once you looked at Rose herself, the full horror attraction starts. The smile on Rose's face was relaxed but also confident, like she just knew how everything was going to turn out before it even does and that confident face, could cause nightmares. As if a villain's plan falls into place and a sickening smile awakens once they realize nothing will get in there way.

"Leave her alone, Rose. I think you're starting to freak her out with all that smiling of yours." All attention was brought to Dirk as he placed Dave into his high chair. His light-hearted remark while saying his previous sentence caused Rose to return back to a calmer and simpler smile, less forced but still just as powerful as before.

"Oh? Am I not to be given the opportunity to help my poor daughter with her constant dreams and hallucinations?" Rose asked in a jokingly manner, placing her hand on her chest and dipping her chin down to her fingertips, while Dirk just rolled his eyes behind his orange stained shades and patted Roxy on the back.

"Why don't ya head over to the table? I'm gonna go get cleaned up and your Ma still has to pick up her knitting supplies." He uttered, a western accent slipping its way through, becoming thicker as the sentences go by.

"And who says I haven't already while you were down here cooking a delicious breakfast?" Rose teased, proceeding to sip her cup of tea with quite an amount of glee. Dirk Kneeled down to her eye level with his own cheeky smile, his hat was placed neatly on his head with a few tufts of blond hair poking out from underneath. His tan skin intermixed with the light of the sun shining through the glass as pink hews hovered over semi-dark pigment.

"I know you haven't Lalonde," Dirk said, Confidence dripping through his words like honeydew and syrup. He dipped his hands in his pockets and leaned up as Rose stood from her spot, gently placing her teacup on the small coffee table next to her.

"Oh, so we are using last names now are we, Strider?" Rose Retorted, her small smile turning into a slight smirk as her bright bangs hung over her forehead. She wore her signature purple headband which she has had ever since she was a little girl, close to Roxy's age as she's said countless times before. Her style consists of many things purple and black, or as many assume is an emo style while she herself counts it as a dignified look.

As for Roxy? She had gotten used to this small flirtatious fling going on between her parents. She had also gotten used to her baby brother babbling and whining for his breakfast to be fed to him. She was comfortable with the continuous amounts of fondness being spread between her and her family. A perfect life, as she always put it. A perfect life that she wouldn't change for this world.

"Ok, this is getting pretty weird. I'm gonna go to Dave. He's getting kinda cranky." Roxy Said, gaining the attention of her parents and absconding to the kitchen which connected to the living room. The two rooms were only separated by the kitchen counter and could clearly be seen by either side. Dave was waving around his arms in order to obtain someone's attention. Anyone's attention really, as the baby just wanted to eat his breakfast.

What was strange about this young infant was that his eyes contained many hues of red and his hair was as white as snow, yet his skin was tanner than his mother's own pigment, who in the past has been known for containing a very fair complexion due to the albino genes being spread down through their generations.

Sunglasses were a very common thing in their family as each member had their very own pair that came in different shapes and colors which would match their own eyes iris. With a few adjustments to fit comfortably on the child's head, Dirk had given Dave a pair of tiny grey shades in order to hide the young infant's eyes from ever being seen by the rest of the outside world. That is until Dave is old enough to make his own decision and decides to take off his shade to which, in retrospect, he has become fond of. For now, though, he will sit in his high chair and beg for attention as his only eldest sibling walks towards him with a small plate in her hand and a sippy cup in the other.

"Hey, Davey-boy? Do you want your breakfast already baby bro?" Roxy asked, changing the tone of her voice to resemble a sort of sing-song baby talk sort of way. She placed the bowl and cup on the table away from the baby's reach and pulled up a chair so she could sit right next to her brother's own seat. As she sat down, her hands reached for the cup and bowl while her brother banged his hands on the small table connected to his high chair. He, like every morning before, will be spoon-fed from a small jar looking container while he blows spit bubbles in his highchair. It is an atrocious sight, but it must be done no matter what, and Roxy was indeed mostly used to the disgusting baby matter splattered all over the table.

"I hear ya, don't worry bro." She said, grabbing the spoon from the bowl and collecting the contents from inside of it. She raised the spoon from the plate and held on tightly to it, as to not give her brother access to the utensil. His excitement was unmatchable and his hands gripped onto the small table with as much force as he could.

"Here comes the Choo-Choo Train. Open wide! ChugaChuga ChugaChuga, CHOO-CHOO!" She yelled, pulling the spoon far away and then carefully but swiftly pushing the spoon forward for Dave to eat. He opened his mouth and accepted the gesture with no hesitation. Most of the food didn't stay in his mouth and had continued to drip down his chin, causing Roxy to laugh at her little brother's antics. Out of the corner of her eye, Roxy could see her mother walking away from Dirk with a pleased and calm expression while her father groaned quietly in frustration.

"Try to clean your brother up if you are going to feed him. He looks like you when you tried to wail like an alley cat and blow bubbles in your drink, though I guess it is only natural since at a young age, I did try to writhe like a flagellum and puke on my bed while your father tried too-" Rose was in the middle of speaking words that should never be spoken for it would have drowned down Dirk's pride and ego which needed to stand on a very high stature.

"Okay! I think that's enough Ms. Flighty Broad." Dirk hastily said with, pun not intended, rose-tinted cheeks. His hands did not slam, but instead gently yet still roughly placed themselves on the table placed directly in front of Rose, not loud enough to cause a bang, but still loud and sudden enough to cause Rose and Roxy to jump slightly. Still, his attempt at shock was fruitless as Dave had only giggled gleefully in his seat, while Rose began a steady chuckle of her own out of her partner's troubled features out of her teasing remarks.

"Anyway Roxane, could you please proceed to tell me what your dream was about. I suspect that it was similar to the one you previously had last night?" Rose asked, already making herself comfortable in her own seat at the table, which she had categorized herself. Behind her came Dirk with an annoyed look on his face, begrudgingly sitting down at the table by the seat next to Rose. He could see Rose glancing at him, clearly satisfied with their previous conversation as Roxy went to take a gander at her father's expression. She had expected him to hold off her mother's questioning for a while longer, although the danger of her mother's manipulation was scary. After only a few seconds of thinking, Roxy had come to the conclusion that she could never keep this category away from her mother, let alone expect Rose to forget about the subject on her own.

"Okay then, um, yeah it was the same as last time, I guess? But this time the dream kinda continued from where it left off." Roxy said, dipping the spoon back in Dave's food and proceeding to feed her little brother as he tried to open his sippy cup but accidentally throwing it on the floor. Roxy went to bend down and retrieve the cup while Rose pulled out a notebook from what felt like thin air. She skipped a couple of pages and then settled on one with the word 'Dreams' on it circled with the red of a marker.

"Well, it says here that your last dream had you waking up underwater in a strange clam-like bed. Your skin was a darker pigment with a rough bi-colored scale-like armor over your regular covering that seemed to have many different varieties of shaded grey. You proceeded to say that when you took a gander at your surroundings, most of the objects that were in your room were pink-" Rose began but was then interrupted by her daughter who had already obtained the sippy cup from the floor and was already giving Dave another helping of his baby carrot slug.

"Which was the same color as my shades by the way. You told me to remind you that when our next 'little chat' happens. Which, just admit it, is another way for you to say appointment." Roxy said, tilting her head back in an uncomfortable position in order to view her mother's uncaring expression while also flicking the spoon in her right hand, spilling some of the baby food out of it.

"Mhm, yes sure. And then you proceeded to swim outside of an opening which most likely would be a windowpane from what you said the features resembled like before. You swam skyward and saw something that resembled a big blue unidentifiable orb and another, smaller one, that was shining red through the water's surface in, what was assumed to be, a purple night sky." Rose said, finally finished her recap on the subject of her daughter's dreams, reading off of the bullet points that she wrote down for her notes. Although, Rose had noticed her daughter perk up at the mention of the blue and red spheres in the middle of her sentence.

"Ya, about the Orb things. This time in my dream, I figured out what they were. When I came up from the water I saw that they were moons. Two of them!" Roxy explained, placing down fact after fact at a very fast pace. She held onto the spoon in her right hand tightly and shook with excitement.

Dave had to whine in annoyance just to get his sister out of her little trance that was keeping her from feeding her little baby brother. She jumped at his yelps for attention and turned her head towards his direction, caused his cheeks to turn red which had always managed to make Roxy laugh. She fed Dave another spoonful and handed him his sippy cup, placing it in his mouth and guiding his hands to hold the cup firmly between his two tiny palms.

"That is...a little confusing? This is why we start from the beginning. You left off at a blue and red sphere, now continue from there please." Rose said with a sigh, as she turned her notebook page and clicked the tip of her pen, already placing down bullet points before rethinking her choices and scribbling them out altogether, deciding that today, she was in a more artistic and calligraphic mood. With another flip of her book and enchantingly swift hand movements, she wrote down another title for her page that read 'Dream 2' as she waited for her daughter's reply and soon after, Roxy had given in and decided to inform her mother about her strange dreams and hallucinations.

"Okay, fine. It started with me breaching the water's surface."

____________________________________

Somewhere else, beyond our knowledge, someone of higher importance sits on a throne awaiting any new information which could lead them closer to the unnatural occurrences that have been appearing these past few Wipes. Her Great Benevolence, an ironic title for the dictator and ruler of all of her subjects, patiently waiting for the new pulse. As if time itself was speeding up, The Grand Gates had opened and her daily reporter had entered the room with a respectful bow, though his shaky hands had come to say something else. He kept his eyes low on the floor and trudged further into the room with heavy feet. With a croaked voice, he softly spoke and reported accordingly.

"My Benevolence I have-"

"You have?" She questioned with confidence. "No. What you have is tardiness, my disrespectful wriggler." She said, with a voice quieter than mice. The reporter flinched and practically jumped out of his skin, his heart pounding with thick blood and adrenalin. He bowed his head further down and knew better than to respond when Her Benevolence was pointing out a job terribly done.

Her Benevolence tilted her head slightly and looked to her side where her prized position stood. A weapon that is known to all of her subjects, and all who knew her name. She looked back at the reporter and scanned him thoroughly, briefly jogging down all details and mistakes before coming to her conclusion. A conclusion which everyone who has stepped foot into this room has always gone through. A conclusion to which Her Benevolence did not believe was her own but of oneself and one's own want of survival.

"Now, please, continue with your report." She said, more firmly this time, her head tilting back into place as if to look down upon her subject, which was her full intent. The reporter looked downward at the paper in his hands, though it would be assumed by how violently he was shaking, reading the words themselves would prove to be very difficult. His intentions were to give a full report and to show his undying loyalty to his mistress, though conclusions are inevitable.

"We have obtained readings of last days pules. The Pinchers sense that it might be an entirely new pheromonal pattern that intertwines cast. Blood wave scanners have never picked up something that lacks this much density in the blood pool." He reported, never once leaving sight of the wrinkled papers clenched in his hands. He paused mid-sentence attempting to swallow acidic saliva building up in his mouth. The sensation was unnoticeable to him and all The Benevolence's Followers.

"Where did this phenomenon occur?" She asked, though as Her Benevolence is, she does not ask even with questions. It is a forceful demand that her subjects must oblige to. She spoke with a warning for all who have heard her and all who have survived.

"The last recorded Pulse seemed to be near the waterfront, beginning at the center of Hellona, making its way through the currents and ending up at the seashore." He announced, as his voice cracked and his eyes filled with fresh watery tears. He hunched his shoulders forward and felt a wave of humiliation and sadness spread throughout his inner being. His spirit began to shrivel and his sign filled black with any positivity that was once inside him beginning to dim into a pale shine.

Her Benevolence let out a small sigh and shut her eyes, her frustration arose and her hands swigged from side to side. A small light illuminated her palm and the reporter began to speak his final words, praying internally to the Signless himself.

"Sea Dwellers." She simply said, as if this was to be a natural occurrence automatically expected from this group of "Water Breathers". She opened her eyes once her words were spoken and summoned the weapon that had finally awoken. The weapon in the corner of the room, a spear that was drenched in many different thick sludgy colors. The spear had flown to Her Benevolence's hand and clanked between her long and sharp pink painted nails.

The sound had caused the reporter to whimper in fear as he held onto the hem of his shirt, closing his eyes tightly and letting out the waterworks. To Her Benevolence, these sounds were a show of disrespect and they showed a sign of pathetic intentions.

"As for you. You have shown signs of disrespect since the moment you entered the room. Your way of speech is undoubtedly inferior and your stuttering tongue may spit my ears in two. Your existence is inconsequential." She said, in a much sweeter tone, softly speaking quiet sounds of a sourer undertone.

Outside of The Grand Gates stood the guards who kept Her Benevolence safe. They were to do their job 24/7 and were not able to move unless their rounds were done or if someone were to try and enter the throne room unannounced. The Gates themselves were slightly thin and if any loud noises were to occur in the room, they would be capable of hearing it, so it is to no one's surprise when they had heard a loud scream coming from inside the room. The guards slowly turned to each other and spoke silently.

"Conclusion?" One of them asked although the answer had been as clear as day. The guards turned back into place and stared forward until the next one spoke his own line.

"Just another lowblood ..." He scoffed, and the room went silent once again. The only thing to be heard was The Benevolences' heels clicking on the hard floor while retrieving her spear from what sounded like ripping fabric.


	2. Dream Intermission

* * *

_**Dreams 2 (Reinterpreted By Rosetta V. Lalonde)** _

_ There I was, awaking from the water’s covering that had formerly ensnared me in its bleak and metaphorical tentacles, slicked in its own black and atrocious ink, like that of  His Honorable Tyranny’s black bathed blood. “I've heard tales of this wretched creature often. Its Homeric legend is practically ensconced in the fold of my personal mythology by now.” _

_ Although I formerly stood as my own person, though not furthermore as some sort of spasmodic and licentious impulse had seeped in and stolen my self-proclaimed voyage. I, in a stressed state, was compelled to reclaim gallons of breath after my hastened surfacing, as if I did not assume already that I could draw breath while in my submerged state under pitches of salt and water. _

_ I peered at my surroundings to detect nothing there but the hauntingly luminous purple sky that had somehow acquired two separate moons that held conflicting forces, as colors of moon blue and red compete for my eyes acting coalescing concentration. Sky blue would not accord to this meticulous delineation of garlanded narrative, ironically enough for the skies had been blanched incessantly away from it s unpretentiously utilitarian azure tincture dredged in patches of bronze and coral. I could only outlook the hastened waters pulling and pushing me to and fro, vigorously trying to overpower me back to my sunken state with merciless twists and turns. I could only hope to reconnoiter with caution and scrutinize my surroundings, gawking at the sky that had shown superior to the capsizing burden of quavering waves. The contrasting shades of purple overhead had mangled themselves with precious specks of orange that hung aloft clouds, compounded with blues and pinks from hostile sides of the expansive canvas above. _

_ My impending strain commenced, sensations corresponding with obscure currents of whipping whirlpools that would formerly haul down the vessels that might have before occupied the biblical history of our authors which would later descend upon their readers and descendants, swelling textbooks with narratives that disciples would register from their desks in our 2000 th century’s once they had devoured the grindings of accented nothings with no substantial desire other than to satisfy their tongues. _

_ I could sense nothing around my continuous grasp of scenery, subjugating my limbs to run dead and permit myself to be transported back underneath to sorrowful cryptic cerulean intensities of fogged perception and choked lungs.  _

_ After moments without oxygen from maintaining my gasp and neglecting it to mingle with my overbearing paranoia, I was compelled to breathe, though I regarded once before that I could inhale where gills had been placed out of what once was bounded flesh. My skin cloaked itself with bicolored ranges of Grey and Pink lamina, seeding themselves immersed within my skin. There was no aching response to each individual scale burrowing and penetrating down into tissue and muscle, but it was furthermore undoubtedly obscure and unsettling. _

_ My faded hair that was once formerly fair was now opaque, almost pitch-black even, like that of a caliginous courtship that would never dare cross to red, and contained highlights of wretched grey and flourished fuchsia, as the cast stands at the top of the rainbow hierarchies Hemospectrum. My nails were no longer pail and consistent as they had transmuted into a polished and pulsing blend of inherent golden yellow while their intimate dull shape turned edged and pointed.  _

_ I had noticed this once I jostled my spine inadvertently against an unyielding object as I inherently tensed my grip. My entire physique solidified as blood trickled under my palms and disseminated throughout the water however, at that moment, I didn’t comprehend that it was blood. The fluid dripping out of me was not any shade of blood that I’ve ever witnessed previously before. It was this lush jell-like matter that favored a vague pinkish-purple tint. The color had resembled the stained glass window panes that my mother had planted her chair in front of, where she sipped her tea and knitted her many plushed-Squiddles, as well as my father’s smuppet’s that had entangled themselves in the striped scarves that my mother had made from my adolescence. _

_ My acquired proficiency in this distinct circumstance was, as greatly as I could accumulate, lacking and I had no comprehensive explanation of what was transpiring. My person was not in power and my awareness had been urged to pray for shutdown as everything became tyrannical. The gushing stream had shoveled under my foreign found scales and had hoisted them up, away from the core of gravity. The discomfort I felt at that duration was so definitive and substantial, I had essentially and exclusively overlooked the exhibition before my surfacing. _

_ I recalled at that instant that I had arisen in an eccentric section, compressed with the most abundant of trinkets and various odd-shaped portrait coverings, furnishings and what I could only presume was some variety of systematized tonic receptacles with the term Faygo on it. I stirred up in a fearful circumstance and in a moment of terror, I only speculated to go to the most knowledgeable location I could imagine which was the surface where I had remembered my previous life that seemed of its own past. I yearned to comprehend where I stood and why I occurred there. I had maintained my gasp the entire time I was immersed and once I was approximately about to breach the surface, I had endured my absence of breath for far too great of a timestamp and proceded to inescapably swoon. Everything had drifted dimly from then on out. _

_ Currently, I suffer my vision of the past and tear back to my prevailing position recommencing my advancement through underwater drifts, thrusting into hazardous items and becoming entangled in various plants that attached to my scales that had emerged from their original standpoint, letting in anything that got caught in its fragile webs. The cycle was unbearable and heinous, and whatever I had devoured before this endeavor was striving to appear. It felt like hours as I breathed in this state, as I proceeded to warp in and out of consciousness. Everything began to wither tirelessly away from sensibility, pivoting on black, to white, to blurry and then to explicit perception furthermore until it recited itself once more. It was a skirmish battle to dwell in my awakened state, but at some point, my surroundings had veered from disastrous blue waters to lilac and lavender skies. _

_ I peered up at pinkish cumulus clouds and orange hews that danced with each other in the sky, hand in hand and twirl after twirl on feet that were not as light as air but were air itself. _

_ “Mom?” I consulted, as there lived an ample amount of purple in the sky that reminded me of my mother. The clouds fluctuated in a rough draft of a silhouette and were displaced with dark complexions of teal. It appeared as if it was seizing the form of a familiar deity, perhaps reasonable a god even, but on their head had contained malformed horns in contours of loops and spirals at the base and then twisted inward at the tip. They were layered with yellows, reds, and oranges, though not in that specific order as it went from brightest to the top all the way down to the darkest color at the bottom. They appeared to possess spiked nails similar to my own, but their skin seemed to be crude and lacked the scales that I possessed. Their optics gleamed of teal and their skin stained itself with the most luminous shades of grey. _

_ They attempted to speak to me in a manner that seemed so foreign from any usual speech that I had ever encountered before. My ears were echoing with high pitched rings that contained a plentiful amount of poisonous sound, making me incapable of deciphering the words that seemed to spew out of their mouth like dripping drool. Nevertheless, it felt like I had heard this voice before, many times even, as the teal figure themselves were reluctantly lingering towards me. _

_They analyzed my depleted state and extended their hand out for me to accept, yet my limbs did not stride as my vitality still suffered from the collisions underwater. I could do nothing but rest there as my vision became darker, and precisely when their hands were essentially about to attain me, I had belonged to a cold and dark world as I fell in the Void._

_ ~Rosetta V. Lalonde _


	3. Chapter Two

Breath...

I took in a deep breath of fresh air and looked around me with shivers spreading down my back and through my spine. I was submerged in this cocoon-like structure filled with bright green slime that was more of a thin liquid than a thick and dense sludge-like substance, though it was noticeable that whatever it was, it contained a disgusting texture. Oddly enough, the enchanting scent of this green, almost jade-colored matter, flew around me with a light breeze wrapping itself throughout my figure as if it was holding me in a tight embrace.

Light…

The light flying in was dim and held hints of Teal showing through the cracks of the cocoon. The blue hews of light outside intertwined with the green goo, creating some kind of Cyan color. It was bright, way too bright for my liking even though the shine was only a mere glisten. The light was nice but I could not handle it at this moment. The darkness of my closed eyes were more than needed now but the blurriness of my sight beckoned for detail, pleading it even.

Time…

I lost track of time here, though it did not startle me in the least. I was taking in my surroundings slowly, too slowly if I do say so myself. Still, it was pleasant to be lost in time at the moment, as if I knew it my entire childhood. Being lost in time was like being lost in a…

 ~~" "~~ …

What was I lost in? I had suddenly gone blank at the end of my sentence. Was it blank? Was that the right word? I don't think so, for blank would mean everything was white around me. I wasn't blank, I was dark. Is dark the correct word I'm looking for? No, I wasn't dark, for I still felt like I could see myself and my hands in my black surroundings. It wasn’t dark, because even darkness holds objects and mass of the unknown. Where I am, there is nothing. Absolutely nothing and that was what was confusing because I felt like I could take anything from where I am now. I was in this empty space of the unknown where I could take or steal anything that I wanted, conjuring something out of nothing.

I was in this infinite-

**_"Hello?"_ **

There it was, that voice. The one that saved me. The Deviled angle with the horns. I remember what they sounded like but even now, my ears were ringing and my vision was blurry. I only heard extended ñ’s, w’s and y’s though placed together like a foreign language that somehow I could understand. I couldn't hear them because of the ringing in my ear but each time I enter a dream, new information fling’s into my thoughts and conscience. Information that I shouldn't know but that I have known for my entire life in this dream realm of mine. 

My mother said that in dreams, things that defy logic and other unusual occurrences seem normal at first and they can seem like you’ve lived with these facts your whole life. There is no one who understands your psyche better than yourself. That's what my mother says at least, so I try to find what I may understand inside of my dreams. I try to find…

“ **_My highest?_ **”

Just like that, my mind began to focus again.

I couldn't stand it.

I didn't like how the light had filled my eyes again and how my ears began to ring once more as blurry vision turned bright and as squeaks and creaks became more vivid. I saw the small crack at the front of the cocoon and it began to grow wider and wider. There was a black shadow dead center of the light, growing immensely with the crack, or maybe it was a door. That’s most likely what it is I think, considering that cracks aren’t just a straight line in the middle of a strange teal-like cocoon with tri-colored doorknobs.

Though the more it grew, the blinder I became. The light was almost holy, that is to say, that it felt like an angel was right in front of me. The outline of their body presented itself as a thin but curved figure with sharp claws just like before. They gifted me with shade from the terrible light that blinded my eyes and burned them as each second past. Still, it wasn't enough. 

The light. The light was just too much on my eyes. I couldn't keep them open and soon after came this pounding headache that caused my head to spin, increasing the ringing in my ears to the highest degree. The person in front of me had opened the doors all the way and soon, their shadow was engulfed in the blinding light. NOW, everything was blank and the ringing sound became a high pitched screech. The last thing I heard were words that I could almost understand. 

It silently screamed, “Please, wake up! Wake up, wake up…

“Roxy Lalonde, wake up!”

Roxy's head had shot up from her desk when she heard a stern voice call out her name. A certain voice that came from her kind yet strict teacher, Ms. Egbert, who had raised a brow and lifted the corner of her lips in a crooked smile. She was old, but she was only in her late 50’s and was more fit than most women her age. 

The class gave no attention to Roxy and kept their eyes on their teacher who was, at the moment, giving a lecture on composition for her 7th-grade class. It was not until she had heard snoring in the middle of her lecture, that she had stopped the entire class and attempted to wake up her sleeping student. One who she had grew very fond of ever since her entry into the classroom. 

“Roxy, I would very much appreciate it if you didn't sleep in my classroom.” Ms. Egbert announced, placing a hand on her hip causing her makeshift beaded strap that held up her glasses to shake and jingle ever so slightly. She wore a bright blue dress that fit fairly around her figure, as well as 4-inch sky blue heels that matched her necklace which was laced in 13 pure white pearls. 

“S-sorry,” Roxy stutter, fumbling to sit up straight in her seat, attempting to straighten up the pink heart-shaped sunglasses that were about to fall off the bridge of her nose just as the books on her desk had fallen off instead. 

You would expect now that an eruption of laughter from the other students would proceed to rise, causing a disturbance in the learning process of these young minds, yet the only effect that had happened after this cause was a fellow student rising from their seat to help their classmate. A student named John, John Egbert. The grandson of Ms. Egbert, who had adopted John's father at a young age. He was one of the best-behaved students in the school and had jet black hair that spun itself with split ends and spikes with shaved sides. He wore a white shirt with a green cartoon ghost on it passed down to him by his grandmother who had a similar one from the 1984 Movie, GhostBusters.

John bent down to help Roxy gather up her belongings, as well as one or two more students who helped clean up the jumble of disorganized papers and writing utensils. It didn't take long before they had all cleaned up the many various items that laid on the floor, and while the other students had gone back to sit down, John had stayed to help organize Roxy's papers by numerical order. They exchanged papers continuously trying to figure out the difference between Schoolwork and Homework as their fingers brushed against each other with each passing document and folder.

“Roxy, may you please tell me why you were sleeping in my classroom, again?” Ms. Egbert asked kindly with amusement hinted in her tone though with a stern glare cemented in her features none the less. 

Her glare shot at Roxy’s nerves and pressed the young child against a nervous endeavor that she did not want to be apart of. As she took the last of the papers from her friend’s hand, John gave Roxy a sympathetic smile that held a hint of worry before he went to go sit down in his own desk.

Roxy placed her belongings on her desk and sat down on the uncomfortable chair that connected itself to her table. She let out a loud yawn, linking her fingers together while stretching her arms over her head, only to then proceed to press her hands against her chest and hunch her back as a shiver spread down her spine. She felt a cold breeze in the room and her breath hitched at the surprising sensation around the class, even though it seemed like no windows were open and the classroom itself did not contain an air conditioner.

“Uh, sorry Ms. Egbert. I just, um…” Roxy did not want to finish her sentence, for she knew she has used almost all of her excuses in the past. This was not the first time that Roxy was found asleep in the classroom and it would not be the last either. It isn't that she doesn't get enough sleep, its that she wants more sleep, or so she speaks, so that she may drip into her dreams once more and find the ending to its strange story. A story that seems so vivid and real that she cannot control what lies inside of it. 

Ms. Egbert let out a sigh of soft disappointment, yet still held up an amused smirk as her left hand rested neatly on her hip. She gave Roxy one final look before continuing her lesson from before, though she had already decided that she would have to speak with the young Lalonde at the end of class. As of now though, it was John's job to unfold the reasoning for Roxy’s current drowsy state. 

He quickly gathered the various amounts of pens that he stored in his book bag and chose the one that had a light blue hue to it. He opened the notebook that was covered in precious stickers that Roxy had sent him for his thirteenth birthday in April. His hands held onto his blue pen while the ink brushed against the paper smoothly with each stroke. He thought carefully about his words and placed them down neatly between the lines, for this was his friend he was writing for and he wouldn’t want his words to come out as misspoken or for his calligraphy skills to turn back into a lazy, unreadable message that only a fourth grader could read, which was the grade that he had started to get into calligraphy.

_“Hey Rox! I saw your new “Meow Meow” Kitty Code shirt. I still don’t know why it’s a “Code” but it’s still pretty sweet I guess. You sure do like pink! Anyway, Nanna and I have been talking these past few days and we've noticed that you haven’t been getting enough sleep? You’ve been taking lots of naps lately. You’re kinda turning into Jade! She takes random naps all the time. Granted, she’s a baby but I still don't know how she does it. If that dog of hers even gets in a 5-foot radius of her, she's out like a light, hehe! Anyway, meet me after class at lunchtime. We can talk then. I can already sense Nana's eyes burning through me. I love her, but sometimes she has this magical ability to turn anything she talks about into monotonous quibble._

_~Your friend, John._

_P.S. Bring Your nail polish_.

As John finished his last sentence, a small cough echoed throughout the room. He flinched slightly, eyes widened and back stiff as his pen fell out of his right hand, making a small clanking noise as it fell against his desk and rolled off. His eyes slowly lifted up to reveal that the purposely made cough had come from his Grandma who he calls, Nanna. She had a disapproving look on her face and placed her two hands on her hips, again.

“I hope that you’re taking notes John, and I do hope that it's not with a pen.” She said, shooting out a warning glance, proceeding to cross her arms with a few tufts of short curly black hair falling over her eyes behind her glasses. John's panicked expression slowly turned into an awkward smile, brows firmly tucked in a frown and lips curled upwards in an unnatural and forced way, revealing an almost unnoticeable buck toothy grin. Almost.

John proceeded to awkwardly nod his head before reaching over to grab the corner of the page he was writing on. He tore the page away from its rings, ripping part of the paper near the bottom of the page in one tiny piece.

“Hehe, Yup. Totally taking notes.” He said, folding the paper and shoving it in his back pocket, while also tearing out the unnecessary small bits of paper still attached to the rings. His hands fiddled with his notebook and turned to the section where he wrote down all of his Language Arts notes. The title of this section was called “Language Arts (With Nanna!)” and had a plentiful amount of swirls and hearts on the page with a multitude of odd shapes and patterns.

“I'm not using a pen, it’s uh…just a mechanical pencil that looks like a pen! Yeah, that. is. the. truth.” He slowly said with pauses and stutters naturally finding their path out of John’s intended words, although the lies only spilled passed his tongue with hopeful eyes that filled themselves in their own drowning, deceitful words. 

“Uhu? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that nose of yours just grew an inch.” Ms. Egbert said, letting out a shriveled laugh that drew pitty with each breath, the sound touching on tired delirium. She looked over to her side, quickly pushing up the bridge of her glasses only to find and spot the blue pen that had rolled off of John’s desk just a few seconds ago.

“Do you mind picking that up from my floor?” She asked, folding her arms in a more mannerized position, that is not to say that she was not already in a mannerized position before. She was just now, unlike before, in a MORE mannerized position that would make it seem as if she were to be in a serious or less relaxed situation. 

“Hehe, sorry Nanna.” John turned his head to the floor with a droopy smile, clenching his teeth together while his feet planted themselves firmly on the floor. He seemed to notice that with each step, he grew closer and closer to a certain girl with blonde short hair and pink heart-shaped sunglasses perched on her nose. Roxy was just two seats away from where John's Pen had initially rolled to. Thankfully enough, she was also the one who graciously and enthusiastically leaped from her desk to go retrieve the blue pen.

“Here you go, John!” She boomed out, plucking the pen from its former placement on the tiles and stretching out to give her friend his pen back. John, with grateful hands, reached out to retrieve the object that sat in Roxy’s palms, but before doing so, he had reached inside his pocket to obtain the folded paper encrusted with the ink from the blue indigo-like pen that now laid in Roxy’s hand. He took out the paper and grabbed onto Roxy, first giving her the note and then delicately grasping the writing tool, skin brushing against each other ever so slightly. She looked at the paper perturbed and stared back up at John in an expectant way.

“Just meet me at lunch, and bring the nail polish,” John whispered, to which Roxy had only replied with a small and soft chuck before nodding quite enthusiastically. They both made their way back to their desks with flushed cheeks and rosy noses, images of their future plans flowed through their imagination. Each held their very own expectations and drew pictures in their head of a totally normal Lunch.

Roxy settled her elbow on her desk and dropped her head on the odd placement of her palm, fingertips mildly hugging and brushing on the center of her cheek and jawline. She grabbed the sunglasses perched on her nose and pushed them up, covering her eyes more securely while sighing through her nose and relaxing her posture a bit before resting her eyelids and letting her imagination run her mind. 

She imagined sitting at the lunch table and holding onto John's shaky hands while painting his nails blue and black, chatting about anything they could think of as they converse over the many loud kids screaming and laughing in the cafeteria. She imagined talking about the latest topics and about Jade who had finally turned 2 years old 3 months ago as she’s already learning so many critical and fundamental things that could help her in her learning experience. She imagined the time when she was younger and how she felt when dave was finally born and how she was so excited about being a big sister. She imagined the red of her brother’s eyes and how pale he was when he was young. 

She imagined the times when she was young and when she fell off her bike for the first time, seeing the red of the blood that spewed out of her knee. She imagined that blood turning purple and jell-like, spilling over her legs and dripping onto the pavement. She imagined her skin turning to scales and her neck ripping apart into three giant gashes on each side. She imagined holding onto her head, digging her yellow sharp claws into her skull as the ringing in her ears got louder and louder. She imagined it getting so loud that it was unbearable, continuously rising until it was the only thing she could hear. The ringing sound. The only sound. The sound of hums, buzzes, and mettle clashing against each other. The sounds of high pitched rings and of screaming kids that lost their grey-skinned friends and white armored guardians that only wanted to protect them. The sound of...

* **Brrrring** *

Roxy shot her head up from her desk again for the second time today as a loud sound shot in her ears. Her hands were shaking and she couldn't remember when she fell asleep, that is to say, she didn't GO to sleep. At least, that is what she believes for the most part as kids began to pack their belongings and scurry outside of the door. At the frame of the door stood John, bouncing and shaking with excitement as his bookbag brutally got spun like a hurricane in his hands.

“Come on Roxy, let’s go!” John piped, as he swung his hands back and forth to get his friend’s attention while struggling to zip his book bag back up. Roxy didn’t want to move and she didn’t want to think about the thoughts and dreams that flooded her mind. She didn’t want to think about anything out of the fear that maybe, at any moment, her dreams would constrict her until she couldn’t breathe. Her breath would be taken away and she would fall further into this, this… _she still doesn’t know._

A hand plopped down on Roxy’s shoulder, ripping her from a near panic attack that began bubbling up into her throat, chest, and hands. She flinched and sped back on the spine of her chair, instinctively trying to get away from the sudden touch that seemed to pop out of nowhere, slithering out of thin air. Her eyes darted up at the mysterious figure, knowing it wasn’t John since he was at the door frame which was a reasonably long distance away from her deck. The figure in front of her had on a blue dress patterned with swirls and flowers that were both bloomed and closed shut while her hair was long enough to go over her ears but short enough to not even come close to her shoulders. The person in front of Roxy was Ms. Egbert, a worried look plastered on her face and a small frown taking up half of her expression. She retracted her hand quickly from the girl’s shoulder once she felt Roxy flinch viciously away from the hand.

“Roxy?” John queried, allowing himself to take a few steps into the classroom, peering over to his friend who seemed panicked and distraught as Roxy tucked her head in between her arms and placed her hands on her skull, curling her fingers into her hair and shifted her shoulders next to her ears. Although Roxy was stiff and still, John could sense that her breath had sped up, humid air spilling out and cool air drying up her mouth as she inhaled. 

John could not bear to see his friend like this, but his eyes remained wide open in shock and halted hope. His feet hesitantly moved on their own and slowly began to walk towards his companion, his friend, the only person who had said hello to him on the first day of class and actually tried to talk to him despite their differences. A person who could delve into the intricate thought process of John’s overactive imagination that seemed to twirl around paranormal beings and activities. His legs moved faster with trembling knees that forced themselves to find strength, soon beginning to sprint towards the blond-headed girl, who could only imagine her hair converting to black and her skin changing into faded grey. The images continued to overflow her mind and consumed her thoughts as memories of pained scales and suffocated lungs surrounded her. 

_Please,_ she thought, _I need to breathe!_

A gentle grip attached itself softly on Roxy’s cheeks, the sudden touch caused her to recoil and lock her eyes closed, revealing nothing but darkness for only half a second until a dim blue light showed through her eyelids. Dim blue, just like when she was in the cocoon as it produced a teal luminous glow around the walls and on the slime that surrounded her. She heard John trying to speak to her, but she couldn’t understand him. He didn’t sound like John, but he did sound familiar as if Roxy has heard this voice before.

Her breathing sped up as she began to hyperventilate, her fear and memories were the only things she could see through closed eyes, frowned brows and scrunched up facial fetchers. She felt the touch on her face grip tighter onto her cheeks, her eyes refusing to open up but small tear droplets threatening to release. The sound of the figure in her dreams was calling out to her, a hand struggling to stretch out in an attempt to hold her close with pleading gasps. The words kept coming in but it was so difficult to understand the odd animalistic sounds and the strange pronunciation in its foreign language. All Roxy knew was that it was pleading for her to be ok and that it wanted her to awaken from this comatose state she was in. The words continued to release themselves out into thin air like a hurricane absorbing dysfunctional quotes and then releasing them out into the open, filling the skies with fumes and gas leaks that the wind spread around the earth in its atmosphere with contentful glee.

_Please! Are you ok? My highest? Wake up!_

All these words that she did not recognize or could decipher, however nevertheless knew the summary of. She violently shook her head, hoping that she could submerge back into a black abyss, even though that did not sound quite right to her. She didn’t care though, for all she wanted to do now was flee from this tormented mindset she was enduring. So many colors were in the sky, neon bright and headache-inducing with hints of disgustingly dark lavender dipping into the blindingly bright pigments of the rainbow. She found herself staring back at the colored spectrum of the sky as she rested on the seashore with all the colors blaring at her, forcing their way into her eyes. It wasn’t until she felt something on her head that made her see a familiar shadow creeping up in front of her, shading her from the intense light.

What she once thought were her own hands digging into her skull, were actually the palms of the hands that used to rest on her cheeks, which somehow managed to maneuver their way to her head. The connection initiated a swift migraine that dripped into a soothing tingle, spreading through Roxy’s head and down to her gills. It whispered in whips of cool wind that blew in Roxy’s face as she felt a presence press their foreheads together. The touch slowly overcame her as she started to lift the lids of her eyes, revealing a bright light that filled her vision, but soon revealed a very familiar shadow overhead. While everything else this being tried to say was unidentifiable, this time it spoke in a breathy, hushed tone. What they said was so clear and yet so quiet, it seemed like the most shocking and important thing in the entire world. They said something that Roxy seemed unable to consider or even do for most of her dreams. It spoke…

**_“Just breathe.”_ **

Roxy’s eyes opened swiftly once she heard a small clattering sound banging on her desk, fear drifting in her dilated pupils and a hiccuped gasp that gagged her throat. Her optics darted around the classroom to unveil nothing but a blurred and weirded out John that seemed to have been jabbing his fingers at the top of her shoulder. He gave Roxy a strange look and retracted his hand from his friend’s arm once she had awoken from her previous state. She looked around the room and found nothing but an empty class that had no children in it except her, John and Ms. Egbert who seemed to be erasing her whiteboard that held many layers of notes and answers to yesterday’s questions and homework. Roxy let in a closing gasp before finally settling her stare on John who still looked concerned and shocked by Roxy’s sudden jolt.

“Were you seriously sleeping with your head up, and with your eyes _open_?” He asked, shifting his hand over to the strap on his book bag that hung lazily on his left shoulder which threatened to fall off. He reached down to retrieve the heart-shaped glasses that cradled on Roxy’s desk, which previously rested on the bridge of her nose. Her hands shook furiously, and she immediately began to examine her skin for any signs of grey tint or bi-colored scales that would theoretically be placed on the pads of her fingers. She just sat there, staring at her hands cupped around her eyes that seemed to have nothing wrong with them, and John seemed to agree with this statement as he did not show any signs of interest in Roxy’s current shenanigans.

“I mean, that’s kind of impressive, but are you sure you’re ok?” He questioned, proceeding to place the glasses back on Roxy’s head with gentle hands that pressed the eyewear firmly between the strands of her blonde locks that settled behind her ears. 

Roxy, with wide eyes now gradually beginning to relax back to normal, gazed up at John’s appearance. The worry and confusion in his blue pearls stared back at Roxy’s more, pink-ish ones that hid behind her pink-tinted sunglasses. Her eyes were indeed the color pink, which seemed to attach itself to her family trees pattern of odd eye colors, with her brother having red eyes yet tan skin as he was the second closest to a traditional albino complexion. Her mother, Rose, had violet eyes with a pale covering while Rose’s father held onto blue eyes and her mother endured a comprehensive albino pigment that settled smoothly on her skin. Dirk, on the other hand, had orange eyes with a darker pigment wrapping around his flesh as his own father held multicolored irises that had shades of Hazel and grey with his mother being the only one in that generation accommodating a brown eye color.

Roxy rocked her knuckles gently to her temples with a shriveled sigh huffing out puffs of air that, if given the right temperature, would blow out clouds of shivering iced smoked. She bit her tongue that poked out between her parted lips as clear audible inhales and exhales flushing through her nose. The migraine in her head had ceased, but the world around her seemed to be spinning on an entirely different axis. Each time she turned her head, bright little dots of light overlapped her vision like beams of fireflies fluttering around her, while also seeming to move and shift around with swift but unchoreographed chaotic movements.

"I-I don't...what?" She stuttered with breathy blows of hot wind releasing from her throat as shaky hands hovered over tired expressions. Not "tired" as in sleepy, but "tired" as in she was sick of these constant hallucinations that spun in her daydreams, while the dreams that cradled her in the night had only held a continuous fuse of confusion and curiosity that dazzled and drenched her in bewilderment. The dreams she experienced at night were almost like an In Real Life Virtual Reality Game that held themes of fantasy and science fiction merged into each other.

“Roxy? Are you sick or something?” John asked, patching the back of his hand to the front of Roxy’s temperate yet not feverish forehead. Once again, Roxy swoons away from the touch slowly, which had only seemed to apply a more distressed and dizzy feeling burrowing in the back of her mind. A wave of nausea crept its way through her stomach and began gradually making its move up to her throat. She inaugurated a series of swallows in an effort to not launch up her breakfast that her father had made this morning. Not only did she feel sick to her stomach, but she also had a difficult time focussing on what John was saying. Still, she was at least capable of deciphering the blurry words that came out of his mouth.

“I’m...okay?” She huffed, questioning if that was the truth of her current circumstances. With a hand on her head, dizzy eyes looking past her pink shades and heavy breathing that needed much of her concentration to keep steady, she questioned if something had hit her on the head through these past few days. Of course, she has had many odd dreams before, ever since she was a child that is, with some repeating illusions and hallucinations more vivid than any normal imaginary friend, and most likely other dreams that have been completely eradicated from her memory. 

“Look, it’s not that…” Roxy attempted to rise from her seat but failed at this action as another hefty surge of dizziness clouded around her. Her knees wobbled and buckled in place, causing the young girl to retreat back into her original seat with John close behind, metaphorically, as he went to reach out for his dazed friend. Roxy had only held out her hand in a gesture pleading him to halt, proceeding to press her palms on her desk and let in a deep breath. John backed away with a small twitch tugging at the corner of his lips, his hands crossed cozily over his chest. With one final attempt, Roxy concentrated and grabbed the sides of her desk with white knuckles soon following. 

“Roxy, just sit down for now.” A voice chimed in from what felt like nowhere, seeming to cut through the trembles and grunts painted on paper by Roxy herself. Ms. Egbert had finished erasing her bored awhile ago, preseeding to loom over the two friends and one specific struggling teen. She really should have called the nurse by now, though she knew she couldn’t at a moment like this. She simply retreated away from the thought and proceeded to walk warily towards Roxy who did manage to stand up properly, but she wouldn’t be able to walk if she tried. Her hands planted themselves softly on Roxy’s shoulders and maneuvered her back to her seat with gentle hands.

“John, go get yourself two teacher lunch passes from my desk and get a boxed lunch for you and Roxy. Come back to my classroom immediately after, young man.” Ms. Egbert demanded, though softly of course as the demand was not a category of dreadful rush, yet was still stern and to the point.

John hesitated at first, biting the tip of his bottom lip and slowly unfolding his arms out of their formally knotted position. His fingers traced over his shoulder awkwardly as he dragged his feet towards his Nanna’s desk, which held many varieties of torn folders, overused sticky notes and multicolored papers scattered about the surface of the polished carving. He carefully hovered his hands over his grandmother’s table with a guilt torn look, puffed up cheeks pushed up to his eyes. He couldn’t help but let out a sickeningly shaky sigh that seemed to, impossibly, blow out a strong winded breath.

“John?” Ms. Egbert said fervently, daggered eyes shooting towards John’s general direction, though she did not say anything other than that as she did not have to, for her tone was all the young boy needed to hear. He stood firmly in place with stiff shoulders bouncing up to his ears, his head tilting right a bit as an inaudible hiss escaped his lips. 

He hastened his search back up to a fairly nimble pace for the lunch passes, which were found underneath a folder that contained twelve bright emblems that seemed to scatter through different shades of the rainbow. John grabbed the colorful folder and stuffed it into one of his Nanna’s drawers, proceeding to gently snatch up the two poorly placed passes that seemed to be drowning in what felt like an infinite amount of papers. He didn’t look back as he walked through the classroom door, but he did sneak a quick glance while passing by Roxy’s seat, her eyes drooped down staring deeply into her desk as her hands roughly brushed through her faded blond hair. His emotions made him incapable of comprehending this scenario, so all he was willing to do was wait. He would wait for the perfect time to talk to his friend and he would hold his heart close to his chest and his thoughts locked in his mind. No more is left to be said of this hectic path, for his feet continued to move on their very own.

He knew better than to look back


End file.
